Not Your Mother's HC
by Spirit Bagle of Death
Summary: September, 1966. Charles has a bad day. And then there's phone sex. Dialogue-only fic. Rated for graphic shenanigans, mentions of ableism, and language.


**September 17, 1966-12:32am**

"LeMaga scrap corporation, how may I direct your call?"

"I have a blue Ferrari, and it's not so much in need of direction, as it is propulsion."

"I see. And what's the license plate number?"

"SGY-4782."

"Good evening Mr. Xavier. He's in his office. I'll transfer you now."

"Thank you, Mortimer."

xxx xxx xxx

"Charles? Isn't it past your bedtime?"

"The beauty of enforcing a campus-wide curfew, is that I'm the only one up and about when it's followed."

"Heh. Right. This, by the way, is one of the many reasons I forward all the children to you."

"Sometimes I wish you wouldn't."

"Tell me what's happened."

"Nothing, nothing's happened, why are you always asking me if something has happened?"

"Because the Charles I know would never even joke like that. Also the last time you called, Cain broke down your door."

"Let's not mention that-"

"And the time before that, the Sentinels had just been debuted-"

"Are you really going to run through the list?"

"I left out the virtual chess games and casual sex suggestions. Which, if I'm honest, I could do with. Either-or."

"mfrrr."

"...Charles?"

"Nothing. It's nothing."

"Bull. You're crying."

"I am _not._"

"Listening to you lie is neither pleasant or convincing."

"Oh _sod it. _This wasn't supposed to go this way. I'm really alright, it's stupid...and you are really, really the last person I should have this pity party with, so, yes, hanging up now-"

"Don't..."

"...It was just, ...a hard day. That's all. For many minor reasons, all of which amount to me really needing to keep my damned ears closed, but it's hard around the students, they're so loud, and really it's useful with the new ones, who say so little and need so much..."

"You're babbling."

"I know. I know..."

"Keep on. I'm following."

"...I fell this morning. In the East wing down some stairs. It wasn't dire but I earned some bruises, and I guess someone saw because by the time I had to teach physics, nobody could spare a bleeding thought for Newton. All they cared about was the tumble and what that meant for Poor Professor X...one student...and God Erik I know he's troubled I know but he's got such spite in him I don't...he wished it'd been even worse for me, so that I could understand what real pain was and 'get the fuck off my high horse' or some such thing...imagine having to keep a smile at that."

"I can't. I couldn't. I wouldn't."

"I _have to_, though. For Jason especially, there's something not quite...anyway, we went into town for Ororo's birthday dinner because curry is her favorite and neither of my cooks know about Indian food-"

"And I wasn't there."

"Heh. Right, yes, no Erik curry for us. And they sat a group of twenty six in a back corner by the washrooms because the owner decided it was best to keep me out of the public eye, which was in fact not a poor estimation, because I put an old couple off their meal and half the restaurant thought I had polio. Oh, and the waitress guessed I was forty-five. And so we ate, and came home, and I graded exams, and Scott burned holes in an ancestral portrait or two, and I graded more bloody exams, and then I called you, ostensibly to discuss some genetic research, I think that's actually what I told myself, but. Well...I'm sorry."

"For what? Having no hair, or having no legs? Or maybe for taking a little girl out for her first birthday in America. You know when I tick off the offenses like that they're pretty overwhelming."

"Hah! You...are an utter-"

"Villian?"

"..."

"Charles."

"What."

"Are you alone?"

"Just me and a very irresponsibly full jigger of scotch, yes."

"Finish the scotch. Now."

"I...alright. Alright it's gone."

"So fast."

"I'm British."

"Heh. Good. Now pull your sweater over your head. Then unbutton your shirtsleeves and just keep burrowing through layers in general until there's no more. Tell me when your cold hands touch your warm chest."

"Erik..."

"Do what I say. Put the phone down if you have to."

"...God, Erik...Okay. I did. I have."

"It's still fall-cold in Westchester. Which means your hands are dry as well as cold. Tell me...are they fair approximations of mine?"

"N...nothing in this world feels like your hands except your hands, my friend."

"But now you know what I'm playing at."

"I do. I'd give anything-"

"And so would I. Now close your eyes, and run your rough fingers over your nipples until they harden. And Charles? Make some noise for me."

"Jesus..."

"No, Villain, remember? Does it feel good?"

"More than...uhmmm-"

"Do you know how many times a day I think about you?"

"N-no..."

"Too often. Too often for comfort. Don't stop what you're doing Charles. Only pause for a moment, and move your thighs farther apart, and listen to me. I think about bending you over my desk at least twice a day, and sometimes I imagine the Brotherhood watching. I imagine taking you and letting them know that you're mine and making you declare that possession...take your cock out, Charles."

"I'm so hard...keep...keep on, please..."

"Other times I think about your absurd Euro-trash laugh, and even the memory of it goes right through me and Mystique will have to repeat herself, and sometimes we're just kissing. I like you bald, by the way. Bald and ponderous in your suits, I like it, I love it, I love you, Charles-"

"Erik-"

"Because I know it's a disguise. Anyone with half a brain can see you're royalty, dangerous, with those eyes, and you still have lips that make me want to fuck your mouth."

"Oh..."

"But tonight, I think I'd like it the other way. Tonight I think what I would do, is kiss the top of your head, and drop to my knees, and bite my way down your neck, your chest, your stomach..."

"Y-yes..."

"I'd use magnetism on your zipper because you're a whore for mutation, you prefer it, and we both know it..."

"Yes...I mean no...j-just you-"  
>"Then I'd brace myself on the arms of your chair and deep throat you, all in one shot on the first stroke, because I can, and because I'm hungry for you, Charles, and I want you to know it..."<p>

"Ah...mmmh-"

"I'd suck you off and let you push me down on it like you want, like no one but me knows you want, and I'd pinch your hard nipples while I choke on you-"

"Oh. Fuck. Erik I'm-"

"And you'd warn me, you always do. Just like you are now, you'd warn me when you were close, and try to pull me off of you, but I'd bat your hand away and hitch your stupid legs over my shoulders, they're not important Charles, not when I'm sucking your cock, I'd take you in deeper and I'd know because your balls would tighten and shudder in my palm (I've been stroking them), and you'd come, hard in me with that hitched breath and the noise that sounds like a sob and always makes me follow. I'd swallow every drop because it belongs to me-"

"AH-hcc-ah...!"

"And because you're absolutely beautiful."

"...Hmm...mm...That...was...I..."

"Am still trying to speak, I see."

"I love you."

"I know."

"I miss you."

"I know...I...I know."

"Erik."

"Yeah."

"Thank you."


End file.
